


Not About Angels

by Gemi



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Incest, M/M, Mikey and Leo briefly mentioned, but technically not as this is an AU where they are unrelated, cursing, in which Don becomes Death's apprentice and Raph can see ghosts, it's Raph after all, tcest, using a scythe to kill is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/pseuds/Gemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Donatello died, he didn't think it would become a job opportunity. </p>
<p>He also didn't expect to become friends with the turtle who moved into his apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not About Angels

Donatello didn’t realize he was dead until his hand passed through the wall.  
  
“Oh,” he said.  
  
His hand didn’t _look_ see-through. It merely looked like it belonged there, built into the wall in some kind of macabre fashion statement. He absently wiggled his fingers inside; if he concentrated, he could feel the slightest hint of isolation and wood beams. The wires that connected the ceiling lamp with the switch.  
  
It was odd.  
  
Donatello slowly pulled his hand out from the wall. Eyed it a moment longer, before he looked around the apartment. He began to wander around it. Somehow, during the time he realized he was dead, the shoes he had thought he was wearing had disappeared. He could almost feel the wooden floor. Almost feel the fuzzy carpet by the bookcase and the huge piles of books next to it.  
  
Donnie stared at the book on his coffee table. It was open. Chapter four, that new book April had insisted he should read. Fantasy and romance and science porn enough to feed his brain; if you listened to April’s description, at least.  
  
He couldn’t believe he was _dead_.  
  
And then Death arrived and offered him a job.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Being Death’s apprentice was the weirdest job he had never imagined.  
  
It was at odds with itself. Half the time, it was as boring as window cleaning- the most boring chore Donatello had ever experienced.  
At other times, it was the most exciting thing he had ever gotten to experience.  
  
Most of the time, it was messy.  
  
Death had assured him it would pass; it took time to learn how to handle a scythe properly, but time or not, one had to keep working. Donnie suspected he was only the latest of Death’s apprentices- the job was deadly, even for someone who was already dead. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was sent into the void early because he tripped on his robes or the scythe or one of those little nothing-holes that he sometimes stepped in when trying to sneak up on the more menacing ghosts. Also, the skull-mask felt too big and too small and not _right_.  
  
But so far, he was alive.  
  
Or as alive as Death’s apprentice could be.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Someone moved into his apartment.  
  
It shouldn’t be a surprise. But it’s still disturbing. Itchy, somehow, and it makes Donnie twitchy and annoyed. His robes gets too messy when he gets too rough with his work. Death gives him the week off, and Donatello somehow finds himself staring at the new owner of his apartment.  
  
It’s a turtle, like him. Looks like he’s twenty-one too, just like Donnie was before he suddenly died. He _thinks_ they are the same height, but he floats more often than not these days, and can’t be sure. The other turtle seems to like red. He got hazel eyes that seems to be golden and green and kind of brownish in between.  
  
Donatello stands in the corner of the small kitchen and stares and stares as the other turtle unpacks boxes filled with old and mismatched plates and mugs, knives that look dull and slightly dented pots.  
  
And then the turtle frowns at him, eyes sharp and narrow.  
  
“Fuck off,” he says and Donatello gapes behind his mask.    
  
His name is Raphael.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Donatello does ‘fuck off’, if only until it’s night and the lights are out in the apartment. He has a week of free time, after all, and he is now filled with curiosity and excitement about the fact that someone can see him.  
  
Sure, that someone is a rude person. But it’s _someone_ who isn’t the enigmatic and untouchable Death who speaks weird riddles and looks Don in the eye when he says a simple ‘No’ to a question Donnie haven’t even had the chance to ask.  
  
So when the apartment is dark and only lit by the moonlight, he sneaks back through the wall that faces the pizzeria on the other side of the street. He thinks about how much he misses pizza, just for a moment, and then he looks around.  
  
Most of his furniture is still there. They probably decided to rent the apartment with it, because the only broken thing is the coffee table and it’s slightly uneven legs.  
The most important thing he notices is that all of his books are still there.  
  
There is only one missing, his favorite with the yellowed pages, the dog eared corners and his handwriting in the back. And when Donatello peeks into the room where Raphael sleeps, he finds the book on top of the living turtle’s face.  
  
Donnie can’t help but smile as he moves the book to the nightstand.  
  
Raphael merely snuffles and doesn’t move.  
  
  
-  
  
  
His work is hard and often messy, sometimes boring and nothing but paperwork. But it has to be done, and Donatello never really thought about how it must look to someone on the outside.  
  
After all, someone cutting down a poltergeist with a big scythe isn’t something _he_ ever saw when he was alive. The ectoplasma only passes through those that passes by. The scythe slices through a ghost and five living people, and only the ghost is affected. So Donnie focused on his job and didn’t think about anyone else seeing it.  
  
He should have known that Raph being able to see _him_ must mean he could see other, unemployed ghosts and entities as well.  
  
It’s still a shock when Donnie cuts down a menacing ghost in the apartment, its ectoplasma splashing onto his robes and mask and Raphael’s face.  
  
It glows bright blue and radioactive green against Raph’s cheeks, his neck, his red hoodie.  
  
The ghost turns into dust. Donatello stares at the other turtle.  
The turtle stares back.  
Donatello watches the ectoplasma drip down to the floor, not quite believing it’s actually touching someone who is clearly alive.  
  
Then;  
  
“Who the fuck _are_ you!?” the other turtle screams and throws his mug at Donnie. It passes right through him and crashes against the wall. He winces. Raphael doesn’t. “What the hell was that? Fuck you! Stop killing people!”  
  
“They aren’t-” Donatello weakly protests, because it feels like he should.  
  
“No, fuck you, fuck this, fuck off!” Raphael cuts him off. “Fuck _this_ too!” he adds and wipes at his ectoplasma covered cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. “What is this shit anyway? Don’t!” he snarls when Donatello tries to answer.  
  
He doesn’t know how the living turtle knew; after all, Donatello’s skull mask cover his entire face. Still, he obediently closed his mouth. Watches as Raphael tries to wipe off the ectoplasma, before he dares to try and speak again.  
  
“I’m Donatello,” he says, and floats back a bit when his reward is a sharp glare. He tries to hide behind his scythe, and is partially successful. It’s _very_ big.  “I, ah, I am sorry for the mess. I didn’t know you were still here.”  
  
“It’s my flat. You shouldn’t do whatever this shit you do, here, anyway,” the other turtle growls and yanks a rag off of the oven handle. He wipes at the ectoplasma, smears it a little before he gets most of it off. Donatello hovers uncertainly in the doorway to the kitchen. “And I didn’t fucking ask for your name!”  
  
“You kind of did,” Donnie points out. He lets his feet touch the floor again. “Unless you meant the ‘who’ to be ‘what’?”  
  
“Oh, fuck you, you’re one of those _smart_ ones.”  
  
“Smart ones?” he asks. Frowns at Raphael, feeling insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“Nothin. Fuck you, again, fuck off, please. What’s up with your _gear_? Did you die on Halloween?”  
  
“No, this is my uniform.”  
  
Raphael stares blankly at him.  
Donatello shuffles.  
  
“Your uniform?”  
  
“I work for Death. Didn’t the scythe give it away?”  
  
  
-  
  
  
Apparently Raphael thought Donnie was a serial killer and ghost kidnapper.  
  
It’s not that far away from the truth; but apparently an uniform and a license chases away the creepy vibes that Donatello had unknowingly given off.  
  
Raph tells Donnie that he really liked the book.  
  
Donnie tells him about the sequel.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“So you can’t actually see me?”  
  
Raphael shook his head. They both sat on the couch, carefully not touching. Donatello had tugged the mask down until it hung from his neck, curiously watching Raph as the other turtle played on a laptop that seemed to have lived a rough life with its cracked screen and permanently smudged appearance.  
  
“I can see you’re a turtle, and kinda my height,” Raph said, gesturing vaguely at Donnie. “You’re green. Dunno what shade, and I can’t really see your face even when you got that freaky shit off you.”  
  
He eyed the mask. Donatello smiled.  
  
“It is pretty freaky, yeah.”  
  
“Why the fuck is it a rat skull?”  
  
“I think Death is a rat?” Donnie shrugged and shifted, went back to writing his reports. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to see if he is wearing a skull or if he is a skull.”  
  
“That’s sick.”  
  
“Sick good or sick bad?”  
  
Raphael snorted.  
  
“Both, genius.”  
  
“You should guess my IQ.”  
  
“Thousand?”  
  
“Close.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
“Ghosts can’t fuck off, they don’t have the stamina.”  
  
Raphael laughed.  
  
  
-  
  
  
He didn’t realize how much he missed talking to someone who wasn’t a ghost trapped by mourning, or riddle-speaking Death.  
Talking to someone who is his age, with enough common interests and different opinions to make discussions fun- it’s good. He likes it.  
  
They bicker about video games and the lore from Lord of the Rings. Donatello tell Raph about April, how she and him had been childhood friends. How he missed her, and hoped she finally asked that janitor guy out.  
  
Raphael tells him about his brothers. Mikey and Leo, annoying and far away in a different state. Leo who’s still studying, Mikey who never had to study because he wrote children’s books that sold out quick.  
  
Then Donnie concentrate on being able to hold the controller as he and Raph plays guitar hero. He doesn’t phase through anything.  
  
Raph still kicks his ass.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“Speaking with mortals is never a good thing, little one.”  
  
Donatello tugged the mask down onto his face.  
  
“I don’t really care.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
There are people in the apartment.  
  
Donnie hovers in the corner, awkward and out of the way. There is loud music and three pizza boxes on the table. Two new turtles, both with blue eyes but lighter shades of green than Raph, are laughing and talking loudly. He watches as Raphael huffs and shoves at the freckled one. Watches as the other turtle puts Raph’s head in a headlock, giving him a noogie.  
  
Donatello was an only child. But Raph’s interactions with his brothers reminds him of April. Of how they used to wrestle in the summer grass, cuddle in the couch as they watched scary movies without permission.  
  
He stares at the brothers for a long time. Raph doesn’t notice him.  
  
Eventually, Donatello tugs his mask back on and escapes through the wall.  
  
  
-  
  
  
April’s home hasn’t changed much.  
  
Not when it comes to decorations. Everything is where Donnie remembers, from her dad’s office to the huge map she got on her bedroom wall. The kitchen still looks a bit messy, because a college student and her scientist dad are too busy to keep it truly clean.  
  
The biggest change he notices is the picture frame.  
  
Half of the glued on sea shells have fallen off. The glass is cracked. It looks like lightning bolts that’s crossing over his ten year old face, spread out and cutting through ten year old April’s then favorite shirt.  
  
Donatello stares at it.  
  
He remembers the warm summer day. How April’s soccer team had won a match, how her dad had taken both him and April to their favorite ice cream place. April still in her soccer clothes, Donnie wearing too big, somewhat worn clothes. In the picture it’s them with their arms chained together, laughing as they are trying to eat their melting ice creams.  
  
Donnie wonders why the frame is cracked. He ignores the stinging in his eyes, because he knows he can’t cry anymore.  
  
He can’t focus enough to touch it.  
  
Maybe that’s for the best.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“Hey, Donnie?” Raph whispers. Donatello hums an affirmative, listening to the snores coming from the livingroom. He can see Leo and Mikey sprawled out on the pull-out couch, limbs all over.  
  
It should amuse him.  
  
Instead he feels broken and empty, mind constantly drifting towards the broken picture frame.  
  
“How did you die?”  
  
Donatello blinks.  
He looks back down at Raph, whose hazel eyes are staring up at where he’s floating. Donatello opens his mouth. Closes it, before he shakes his head.  
  
“I can’t remember,” he admits, whispering even though the others wouldn’t be able to hear him.  
  
“What, nothin’?” Raph whispers back. “Is that normal?”  
  
He thinks back to the ghosts he meets. The ones who mourn, the ones too traumatized. The ones that has grown too twisted because of the memories. The ones he has to cut down.  
  
“No,” he says, “I think it’s just me.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
They don’t plan to run into April.  
  
It’s just a normal night. Him and Raph wandering down the streets after dark, nothing but street lights and wailing ghosts. Now and then they stop to speak with the peaceful ones. Sometimes Donatello has to sneak ahead to cut down the ones too angry to be soothed or ignored.  
  
They walk around during the night, because that’s the only time they can talk. The people still out doesn’t matter enough for Raph to be afraid speaking into thin air; the ghosts are, in a surprise twist, not as active during the night which means most of Donnie’s attention can rest on Raph and nothing else.  
  
So they talk and walk and then-  
  
“Are you okay?” she asks, and Donatello can’t breathe, which shouldn’t be weird since he is dead, but now he can’t _breathe_. It feels like the air has been punched out of him. Raph blush a darker green than he already is and nods, shoving his hands into the front of his hoodie.  
  
“Yeah, just talkin’ to myself,” he says.  
  
“April,” Donatello whispers.  
  
She looks tired. Her bangs are getting too long again, but she must have felt too lazy to pin them away. The dorky, red-rimmed glasses are on too. Maybe she needs new contacts. Maybe she just didn’t feel like wearing them today.  
  
He stares and tries to drink it all in.  
  
“April,” Raph repeats, surprised, doing a double-take.  
  
She frowns at him. Donatello is vaguely aware of how she is taller than Raph, the way she was taller than him. Mostly he’s too busy trying to remember it all, because she is his sister in everything but blood and he _misses her_.  
  
“Yeah,” she says, “do I know you?”  
  
“Uh.” Raph glances at Donnie. Then something softens in his eyes as he turns his gaze back to April who looks concerned and tired and so, so close. “Yeah, well, kinda? Found some old pictures in my new apartment. You and some guy named Donnie is in them?”  
  
April stares. She is pale, now, and her bottom lip trembles.  
  
“Oh,” she says. She blinks rapidly; it doesn’t stop her eyes from glazing over.  
  
Donatello wants to hug her.  
All he can do is make a hurt sound, tries to reach out. His hand passes through her shoulder, and he covers his eyes instead.  
  
“Hey, hey,” Raphael steps forward and when Donnie peeks through his fingers he sees Raph throw an arm over April’s shoulders. “It’s okay, miss. Sorry if I upset you.”  
  
“No, no, it’s-” she sniffles, wipes at her eyes. Smudges her glasses. No tears have fallen. Donnie doesn’t know if he’s relieved or wants to see her cry when he can’t do it himself. “I’m sorry, I just. I miss him and I wasn’t- I wasn’t prepared.”  
  
And then the first tear falls.  
  
“I _miss_ him,” she says.  
  
“I miss _you_ ,” Donnie brokenly replies.  
  
  
-  
  
  
They become friends.  
  
Two hot tempered people, and Donnie isn’t that surprised when Raph one day let’s the truth slip. He and April gets too passionate when arguing, and sooner or later he would have slipped up about ghosts and Don’s visits between breaks.  
  
He is even less surprised when April screams at Raphael and slams the door on her way out.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“She doesn’t believe in ghosts.”  
  
“No kidding,” Raph snarls and slams open the fridge door. The coke bottles rattle inside, but he reaches past them to grab a beer can. Donatello grimaces but continues to hover behind Raphael as the other turtle stomps back towards the couch.  
  
“Sorry. I mean, I should have warned you about it. It’s- I think it’s because her dad is a scientist, and… and April has never been sold on the supernatural.”  
  
“Yeah, well, why the fuck would I lie about seeing freaky shit?” he snapped back. “I don’t _like_ watching fucked up people that no one else can see! I don’t like getting fucking _ghost blood_ all over me!”  
  
“I- I know, Raph, but-”  
  
“Shut up!”  
  
Donatello flinches when the Raph throws the remote control at him. It goes straight through, clattering against the floor. The batteries popped out and continues rolling until they hit the other side of the room.  
  
It’s silent for a while.  
  
Then;  
  
“Raphie,” he says, softly, and Raph’s shoulders shake. The beer can is put on the uneven coffee table. Scarred hands go up to cover his face, and Donatello drifts closer. “It’s okay. She’ll come back.”  
  
“No, she ain’t.”  
  
“She’s your friend. _Our_ friend. If she came back even when I cut the hair of her favorite dolls, she will come back to you for this.”  
  
“Donnie?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’re touching me.”  
  
Donatello blinks.  
Stares at his hand, squeezing Raph’s shoulder.  
  
Raphael’s hand shakes as he puts his own over it.  
  
  
-  
  
  
When April comes back, it’s to Raph hugging the air while shakily reassuring what seems like no one. Donatello doesn’t notice April, doesn’t notice anything but Raph and arms and his scent. Because he can touch him, hug him, and he would cry if he could.  
  
Instead he is breathing too fast and whining too loud and he doesn’t care at all.  
  
Because Raph can hug him.  
  
And Donatello missed touch _so much_.  
  
  
-  
  
  
April cries.  
  
Raph keeps trying to repeat Donnie’s words, but he gets distracted the whole time. He can’t stop staring, and finally Donatello stops trying to tell April everything and looks at Raph and asks _What_.  
  
“I can see you,” Raphael says and reaches out and pokes Donnie right on his snout. “You got freckles.”  
  
Donatello blinks. His lips part as he understands.  
April sobs and hiccups.  
  
“What?” she asks, and she tries to reach out and touch Donnie too. Her hand passes through. Raph’s doesn’t, and Donatello grasps his wrist.  
  
“He was kinda blurry before,” Raph tells her and doesn’t look away from Donnie’s face. “But I can see all of him now.”  
  
Donatello slowly smiles.  
  
He feels shy.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Their first kiss is warm and wet and alive.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Being Death’s apprentice isn’t too bad.  
  
Ghosts try to kill him and it’s messy and exhausting and Death is so, so mysterious.  
But it let him meet Raph.  
So it’s not too bad.  
  
It’s not bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> And also, Dragona15 on deviantart have drawn some cool art for this story. Go check it out!  
> [The Death Don](http://dragona15.deviantart.com/art/The-Death-Don-579077422) by [Dragona15](http://dragona15.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)


End file.
